All We Ever Do Is Say Goodbye
by Littleotter73
Summary: After making sure everyone is safe and secure immediately following the war with the First Evil, Giles returns to his motel room to take care of his injury when he is visited by his Slayer.


**Title:** All We Ever Do is Say Goodbye

**Author:** littleotter73

**Pairing:** Buffy/Giles

**Rating:** FRM

**Summary: **After making sure everyone is safe and secure immediately following the war with the First Evil, Giles returns to his motel room to take care of his injury when he is visited by his Slayer.

**Setting:** Immediately following "Chosen" (season 7)

**Beta:** il_mio_capitano

**Disclaimer: **Just for fun, not profit.

**A/N:** This story is a bit different for me. There will be a companion piece to it to follow this one.

All We Ever Do is Say Goodbye

Giles wearily pulled off his glasses and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was well past midnight. He'd finally finished his rounds, having made certain everyone had settled in for the night - a difficult task to be sure as the newly battle tested Slayers rode out their post combat high. Finding the unopened bottle of bourbon behind the reception counter on his way back to his room had been an unexpected but welcome discovery. It wasn't scotch, but it would do. Unscrewing the cap he took a healthy swig before setting it down on the nightstand and gingerly removing his jacket. He winced when he pulled off his jumper and looked down at the makeshift bandage he'd tied around his waist. It was caked in blood, but thankfully hadn't soaked through to his sweater just yet. The last thing he needed was his friends fussing over him when there were others far more injured than he.

Taking another deep pull from the bottle, he steeled himself for what was to come next because removing the cloth was going to be excruciating. "Best be done with it," he told himself aloud before walking into the bathroom. He then untied the knot and quickly pulled the cloth away from the wound. In doing so, he opened it up again and bit back the scream he wanted to let out. Reaching for the bottle he took a long draught and rode out the pain as the blood trailed down his torso and onto the waistband of his jeans.

He cursed in three languages and carefully rose to his full height to remove his jeans, laying them on the vanity to clean later. Grabbing a towel and wiping away the excess blood, Giles took a moment to inspect the injury on his abdomen just to the right of his navel, and found it to be about two inches in length and deep enough to need stitches. Lucky strike from the Turok-han, even luckier that Giles had seen his attacker in time and had moved evasively.

Rummaging through his shaving kit, he found the small pouch he was looking for and opened it up, pulling out a needle and some surgical thread. He then poured a small amount of bourbon into the glass on the vanity and dropped the needle in to sterilize it. Steeling himself for the next step, Giles drank deeply from the bottle before pouring some of the dark liquid over the cut. The alcohol burned and he let a guttural cry as it worked to kill the bacteria and stave off infection. With a shaky hand, he placed the bottle down, and grabbed the vanity, trying to breathe through the pain, his nostrils flaring with each exhale.

When the searing pain began to subside, Giles became aware of the knocking sound at his door. Picking himself up and grabbing a clean towel, he staggered back into the bedroom and found himself face to face with Buffy in nothing but his boxer briefs.

She stared at him, taking in his appearance, quickly noting the gash on his abdomen that streamed blood and alcohol down his torso and over his underwear. "Jesus, Giles, when did that happen?"

He made his way rather stiffly to the edge of the bed and carefully sat down. Once he felt comfortable enough, he looked up at her. "Well, there was this battle, you see," he replied sarcastically. "Couldn't you wait a few moments for me to come to the door?"

Buffy shrugged. "I have the master key. When you didn't answer, I got worried," she replied, kneeling down before him to inspect his injury.

"It's nothing," he dismissed trying to move away from her after seeing the concern on her face.

"Doesn't look like nothing," she countered as she touched the tender skin around the laceration.

He winced. "Needs stitches," he finally admitted and closed his eyes. He was battered, bruised, and bone weary… and the gash throbbed. "I've just cleaned the wound out with some bourbon. There is a needle in a glass on the vanity in the bathroom and the surgical thread is sitting on the pouch next to it."

Buffy took his left hand in her right one. "You were going to stitch it up by yourself?" she asked incredulously.

Nodding, he opened his eyes. "Wouldn't be the first time."

She shook her head and let go of his hand. "You are such a badass, Giles," she said with a hint of amusement. "But that's not necessary. Lie down."

He did as he was told and stretched out on the bed after first placing down the towel so he wouldn't bleed all over the bedclothes. All he wanted was to go to sleep, but he knew he had to endure the agony a bit longer. Then he could take a few pain pills, drink a bit more alcohol, and pass out.

"Don't forget to bring the bourbon back when you get the needle and thread," Giles murmured.

Buffy returned and poured the alcohol onto a washcloth and began to carefully clean the cut. He hissed and his body arched up in reaction to the sting.

"You know," Buffy mused as she wiped the excess blood off of his torso. "This should be really weird."

"It's a medical situation, Buffy. I am sure I can count on your discretion not to tell any of the others how old and gross I am. They have their own opinions on the matter anyway."

Buffy gave a little chuckle. "That's not what I meant. And don't go fishing for compliments. You know how good you look." He opened an eye and raised an eyebrow. "What I mean is usually you're fixing me up. It just feels like it should be weird, but somehow it's not. You're quite the warrior."

"High praise from you. Now I know I am going into shock," he answered blandly as he closed his eyes and let his head rest against the mattress again. "How is your wound?"

"The Slayer healing has taken care of it. A little faster than normal, but I think that's because of the magicks."

"Good." He took a deep breath. Her hands on his skin felt wonderful. It had been a long time since he had experienced any affection and she was gently and methodically taking care of him. When the group was together one last time contemplating the future before the battle, not one of them had hugged him. Other than the time they'd accosted him in the desert, he couldn't remember any tactile affection from his friends. The new Slayers didn't count. He'd saved them and they'd relied on him, taking comfort from him, but it wasn't a familiar affection and he'd played the role of surrogate Watcher. "Pass the bottle and I'll be ready for the stitches in a moment."

Buffy moved to run her fingers through his hair and he opened his eyes to look at her. She gave him a little smile and said, "Giles, there's no need for stitches. I've got that aspect thing going on. Willow borrowed the power of the Slayer to activate the Potentials and I've got some of her witchy powers. I just wanted to make sure the wound was clean before I start the healing mojo."

Shifting his body so he could sit up, Giles winced in pain and covered the wound with his hand. "Buffy-" he began, a warning tone to his voice.

"I know what you are going to say, that there are downsides of healing to the caster. Just not in this case. It's white magick, left over from the activation spell. I promise, no transference."

They stared at each other for several moments at an impasse before Giles laid back down on the bed and removed his hand from the gash. He was too tired to argue. He just wanted the pain to go away and to finally get some sleep.

Buffy took the washcloth and quickly cleaned the blood from his hand and his side again. When she was done, she placed her hands back on his abdomen. "It won't hurt. You ready?" He gave an affirmative grunt and placed his left forearm over his eyes, the overhead light was garish even with his eyes closed.

Recognizing the Gaelic chant his Slayer repeated, Giles started to relax. It was as she had described, healing from a benevolent power, not a gift from the magick user that transferred energies. In no time, the bleeding stopped, the throbbing pain subsided and the little aches and pains from bruises and scrapes all faded away. His body instantly relaxed and he could breathe easily again.

"You okay?" she asked as he felt her fingers run through his hair again. Giles started to fade into slumber, but managed a soft affirmative noise. "I'll turn out the light to let you sleep."

He felt the bed move as she rose from her place beside him and, when he heard the click of the light switch, he let the arm that had been covering his eyes fall to his side.

"Giles, do you… do you mind if I stay?" she asked tentatively when she returned to his side, but he was fast asleep.

—

He woke to gentle fingers running through his hair. It felt divine and he kept his eyes closed a few moments longer enjoying the feel of them before they stopped. He knew the change in his breathing gave him away… and the soft sigh. Opening his eyes, he found it was still mostly dark, though the light from the street lamp outside his window shone through the gap in the curtains and illuminated the room enough that he could see the concern in Buffy's eyes.

"You should be sleeping," he whispered as turned to raise himself on his side and brought his hand up, lightly brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek. It was an extremely intimate gesture, but he was groggy and she'd been touching him in an equally familiar way.

"I know," she answered thickly, her voice low. "Still kinda buzzing from the day. How are you feeling?"

"A little sleep deprived, but other than that, I haven't been this pain free in a long time." His eyes searched hers, though he wasn't quite sure what he was looking for. "Thank you."

Covering the hand that was caressing her face with her free one, Buffy moved towards Giles and lightly brushed her lips against his, and then again, applying a little more pressure, testing his interest. His hand moved around to the back of her neck and he rolled onto his back, drawing her with him as he responded to her kisses, parting his lips in invitation.

She straddled his hips and plundered his mouth, her tongue dancing with his as their hands explored each other's body. Buffy's questing fingers surveyed the definition in his chest and shoulders while Giles' hands ran up her thighs and over her hips before finding the hem of her shirt and lifting it off. Cupping her face with both hands, he brought her mouth down to his and kissed her with a sudden desperation. He trailed his hands down over her shoulders and pulled the straps of her bra down. Between the caresses and the sighs he reached around and unhooked the bra. Needing to see her, he pulled himself up into a sitting position.

His sudden movement caused her to settle onto his lap against his hard cock and he broke the kiss, bucking against her as he settled his forehead onto her shoulder, breathing hard. Buffy shrugged off her bra and tossed it to the side before returning her hands to his back, running them up his spine and threading her fingers through his soft hair, her fingernails massaging his scalp. Raising his head, Giles captured her mouth with his, losing himself in the intensity of their love making as she eagerly ground her core against him.

There were times in his darker moments when he wondered what it would be like to make love to his Slayer. Moments in the Magic Box during training when one of their hands would slip and unintentionally grope the other, or they would end up tangled together on the mats, and sometimes he'd take those images to bed with him. He wasn't proud, but he was human, and she was a beautiful and powerful woman, and he figured that her passion for sparring would equal her passion in bed.

He was wrong.

Buffy was a far more enthusiastic lover that he had ever imagined, taking charge and taking what she wanted. When she broke the kiss, she trailed desperate little kisses up his stubbly jawline and nipped his earlobe with her teeth before nibbling and sucking at his neck. She was going to leave a mark, but he didn't care. He was consumed by her fire.

Wanting to play a more active role, Giles reached for the button on her jeans, popping it open before pulling down the zipper. Although in this position he couldn't remove the barriers between them and he quickly reversed their positions, kneeling above her. He was just about to divest her of the rest of her clothing when he stopped and took a moment to look at her lying beneath him, her straight blonde hair fanned out almost perfectly on his pillow. The rise and fall of her beautiful breasts as she breathed caught him off guard. They had truly made it. They were alive… had survived yet another apocalypse, this one with far more devastating consequences for the world than the others. He hadn't let himself believe they would make it out alive, and he reached out with his left hand and caressed her cheek, a small, soft smile playing across his lips, though it never reached his eyes.

She caught his hand in his and brought it to her lips, her eyes trained on his, placing an open mouthed kiss on his palm before sucking his index finger into her warm mouth and running her tongue along it. He closed his eyes to enhance the sensation and let out a slight moan, imagining her doing that to another, very enthusiastic part of his anatomy that was currently straining against the confines of his boxer briefs.

When Buffy finished sucking his finger, Giles groaned and leaned over her, taking her mouth in a carnal kiss, his tongue desperately seeking hers as his hands explored her sides and abdomen before moving up to massage her breasts and gently tease her nipples. She bucked against him and he couldn't help but break the kiss and thrust back, lamenting the fact that he had been distracted from his earlier mission to remove her clothing and his shorts.

His breathing shallow from need, he cupped her cheek and sought out her eyes with his, silently asking for consent. She nodded and he pulled her jeans and panties down, discarding them over the side of the bed. He then shoved his shorts down and kicked them off, his hard cock jutting out proudly before him.

Leaning over, Giles kissed and licked his way up his Slayer's calf and thigh. As he reached her apex, he felt her fingers rake through his hair and reveled in her touch before turning his attentions back to her body. Her skin was soft and responsive beneath his tender caresses. He nudged her legs open a little wider and drew his hands down the outside of her thighs before redirecting his attentions back towards her and nuzzling his nose into her soft dewy curls. Her breathing hitched when he parted her folds with his tongue, eagerly acquainting himself with the contours of her sex. She writhed beneath him, seeking more and he dipped his tongue into her warm channel, lapping up her juices before continuing his explorations.

Her left hand reached out for his and he laced his fingers with hers. Her breathing now came in pants and she ground her core against his face as he started to tease and suck at her sensitive clit. He introduced one finger and then another, stretching her and pumping into her, and when he curled them as he sucked harder, he lifted his eyes to watch when her torso arched off the bed and her body convulsed as she came hard against him, her cries stifled as she bit down on her lower lip, trying desperately to remain quiet.

In the throes of ecstasy, Buffy was magnificent even as she held back, her body powerful and dynamic as she rode out her orgasm. Reaching for him, she grasped his shoulder and he moved up her body, placing kisses along her abdomen, between her breasts, and along her neck. She hugged him to her urgently as her body convulsed one last time.

"Alright?" he asked, whispering against her ear.

Buffy released her hold on him and her right hand came up to caress his cheek. "Yeah," she answered before drawing him down for a long, slow, devouring kiss, their bodies slowly undulated against each other. Buffy dragged her nails down along his ribcage, over his hips, and squeezed his muscled rear before pressing him closer towards her. The tip of his penis brushed along her wet slit and he lost control of the kiss, letting out a strangled moan.

Giles was so exquisitely hard and he wanted to come. His physical reaction to her orgasm was intense and he dropped his forehead into the crook of her neck for relief, but she was so intoxicating and she inundated all of his senses: the feel of her body beneath his, her smell, the taste of her lips, her mouth, her skin, and her sex, the sight and the sounds of her responding to him - they all mingled together to drive him wild and made him feel more alive than he had in ages.

So wrapped up in the moment was he, that he was completely startled when Buffy circled his cock with her hand and began to explore his length, stroking him and teasing the head with her delicate fingers. Her touch had him on the verge and he quickly had to reach down and squeeze the base to steady himself.

Feeling the moment pass, Giles moved to look her in the eyes. "Are you sure, Buffy?" he asked.

She nodded and helped guide him to her. There was an instant where his pale green eyes met her darker ones before their lips crashed together in a searing kiss, and as he slowly pushed into her, she immediately tore her mouth from his and rolled her hips, taking him in deeper and deeper, and setting a fast pace.

Fueled by sheer need, they met each other fast and hard, and when Giles noticed the slight hitch to her breathing pattern, he pulled her hips up onto his knees and changed the angle of his strokes. He watched in awe as she squeezed her breasts and pinched at her nipples, uninhibited and empowered to take what she needed, and the moment he felt her muscles clench around him, he let go, tumbling into bliss with her.

After rolling onto his side, Giles gathered Buffy into his arms, his front to her back, and covered them up with the bed sheet. They cuddled quietly for a few minutes while she lightly ran her fingers up and down his forearm.

Finally she broke the silence. "You're leaving again, aren't you?"

"I have to. In the morning," he answered quietly. "Will you hate me again?"

She turned in his arms to face him, her expression sad and thoughtful. "I didn't hate you the first time… or the second, Giles. I was angry and hurt, extremely disappointed, but I never hated you. And I also understood and supported you when you had to leave to go find the potentials this past year."

"You hated me for my part in trying to neutralize Spike."

"Are you trying to pick a fight?" Buffy asked, though her voice held no challenge. "Again, I didn't hate you. I was angry as hell at you, though."

"Is this what this is about? Mourning Spike?" Giles questioned, his tone matter-of-fact as he ran his left hand up and down her spine.

Without a beat, she answered, "No. I just think perhaps we both needed to feel… alive or something." He closed his eyes and let out an affirming noise. "Why do you have to go? We kind of need you here to help with whatever's coming next."

"I will do all that I can to help with that."

"From England?"

He nodded.

"Why, Giles?"

Letting out a deep breath, Giles flopped over onto his back.

Buffy sat up, taking the bed sheet with her, covering herself up, suddenly self-conscious. Looking pointedly at him, she asked, "Giles? What aren't you telling me?"

He ran his hand through his hair and pulled himself up to a sitting position. "Do you remember when I returned after you were… brought back?" Buffy nodded. "I told you I had met someone?"

"Almost statistically impossible at your age," she answered with his own words, letting him know she hadn't forgotten.

"Yes, well… after I left Sunnydale again, I… married her," Giles confessed looking down at his hands.

Jolting up and out of bed and pulling the sheet with her, Buffy cried, "What? Oh my god! I've sunk to an all time low."

"Excuse me?"

Buffy was angry and paced the floor. "You should have told me you were married! When did you get married? I can't believe I slept with a married man!" she yelled with disgust as she ran her hands through her hair.

Giles felt the anger rise and grabbed his pillow to cover himself. "Oh I think sleeping with dead men ranks a little lower on the morality scale!" he shot back.

She stopped pacing and sat down on the edge of the bed. "That's _not _fair!" she mumbled sadly, looking down at her hands, her indignation suddenly dissipating. "I _loved_ Angel."

"I know. I'm sorry." He felt ashamed. It was a low blow and he knew that he was better than that.

"Why didn't you tell us? I mean, you aren't wearing a wedding ring, so we couldn't guess or anything."

Giles didn't look up to face her. "I was part of the background, Buffy. None of you realized I was corporeal until Robson phoned with his suspicions. Until then, no one bothered to notice. Not one of you touched me, not even a hug or a pat on the back to welcome me home."

"That's not true, Giles. I knew," she protested, reaching out and placing her hand on his forearm. "And for the record, when I saw you on the doorstep, I was just about to run to you and hug you, but your little band of proto-Slayers prevented that from happening."

"Nevertheless…" he finally met her gaze. "I'm not asking for pity, Buffy. It just was. Everyone was wrapped up in their own drama and in the crisis at hand."

"For the record, I just want to point out that we touch multiple times throughout the day. We're constantly brushing up against each other. I just don't know if we realize it much anymore, but because of that, I never once suspected you of being the First."

"Thank you."

"So what gives? Are you going to tell her about us? This?"

"No-"

"Giles!" she interrupted with indignation as she removed her hand from his arm. "Geez, I thought you were one of the good guys!"

He shrank back against the headboard. "What good would it do, Buffy? You said yourself we both needed an affirmation."

"Yeah, when I thought we were both _single_!" He sat there quietly, miserably looking at the window and her anger returned. "What's her name?"

"Karina."

"How did you meet her?"

"At Council Headquarters. My therapist introduced me to her."

"Watcher?"

"Yes, a researcher in the library."

"Of course," Buffy responded, letting out a humorless laugh.

Giles blinked and looked at Buffy, not understanding what she found funny.

"It just makes sense… I mean Watcher, former librarian, ace researcher falls for another Watcher researcher who is assigned to what I assume is the greatest library and research facility for the weird and the wacky."

"Ah," he answered in response.

"With a name like Karina, I assume she's not British."

"Polish."

Buffy looked at the floor. "So why the shotgun wedding? Is there a baby Giles on the way?"

"Erm… no. She was just someone I could talk to. I was hurting and very much alone after you died and she understood that." Buffy moved back up to the empty side of the bed and sat next to her Watcher. She smiled at him in understanding and he relaxed more. "She let me talk about you and she didn't begrudge me when I left to come back to you. While we'd only dated a few times, we'd become very close. I felt I could tell her almost anything."

"Did you… did you leave me for her?" Buffy asked with a slight hitch in her voice.

Giles reached out and momentarily cupped her cheek, bringing her eyes back up to face him. "No. I promise my leaving had nothing to do with her and everything to do with what I thought was best for you at the time, and when I came back for Willow's apocalypse, I found out how very, very wrong I was."

"Were you married then?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't say anything to us at that time?"

"You lot had a lot more to say, if I recall. That and there wasn't much time before I needed to turn Willow over to the Coven."

"And yet, Willow didn't know and she spent the entire summer at the Coven and then at your house… with the horses. She never mentioned anything about a Karina."

"No. The focus was on Willow's recovery and Karina was working on a project at headquarters."

"If you feel you can tell your wife anything, why not tell her about this? I am sure she'd understand and forgive you. Better than her finding out some other way. You aren't really good at the guilt thing, Giles, just saying."

A spark of anger flashed in his eyes, "Why? Does it make _you _feel better having her know that you will always come first, Buffy? Do you really think that will help anything? She _knew _that."

"That's not what I meant. I guess I don't understand-"

"No, I wouldn't imagine you do. You've never come second in anyone's life. Even Willow and Xander put you before each other."

"I think maybe you've forgotten someone, Giles. My dad puts me _last_ on his list of priorities. I think I might know a little of what that's like."

He'd been scolded again. She was right and he was acting like a heel. "That was insensitive of me."

"It was."

They looked at each other with tight smiles, acknowledging the hurt and the forgiveness.

"I just feel bad. Had I known you were married, Giles, I wouldn't have…" Buffy didn't continue and they sat in silence before he let out a heavy sigh.

He focused his gaze on his hands, fingers laced together as they rested on the pillow in his lap. "She was slaughtered by the Bringers. We were having dinner in her… our flat when they attacked. There were three of them and before I could kill them all, one of them had slit her throat. I had to leave her there and make my escape."

"Oh geez, Giles!" Buffy rushed at Giles and wrapped her arms around him, forgetting the sheet. He quickly returned the embrace and buried his head into her neck, but tears wouldn't come. He'd mourned Karina already, in his own private way.

"I have to go back. Make it right with her family."

"It's okay," she shushed, drawing him down to lie back down on the bed. When he raised his head, Buffy affectionately drew the back of her fingers down his cheek. "You do what you need to do."

Giles felt a sense of calm rush through him. He knew he didn't need her permission. He had left her twice before without it. It was just easier to have her understand. "When I spoke with Robson last, he said he'd squared the matter with the police. But I need to settle her affairs and return her ashes to her family in Poland. They need closure."

"And you? What about you?"

"I… we came together and eased each other's loneliness."

"You loved her, Giles."

He shook his head. "Not like she deserved."

"None of us ever loves someone like they deserve, Giles, we only love them the way we can."

Rolling onto his back, Giles took her along with him and she snuggled into him, her head resting on his shoulder. "I suppose so," he answered.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she whispered as she caressed his abdomen and chest, running her fingers through the fine hairs.

"There's been too much loss," he replied just as softly. "I am sorry about Spike."

"He was a friend, Giles, an ally. I didn't love him that way and he knew it. It's not the same, but thank you."

His left hand found her right one and he ran his fingers along hers. She responded in kind, their fingers intertwining and lacing together, both needing to keep up the intimacy between them.

"I wish I could stay. To be of more immediate help to you," he said regretfully, bringing her hand up to his lips.

"It seems that all we ever do these days is say goodbye," Buffy lamented.

Giles leaned down to kiss her softly, but it quickly escalated into something more as the need between them rose again, only this time, they took their time exploring each other, learning the curves and planes, and taking comfort in one another. When they hit the crescendo, it was together, and he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close after fixing the discarded sheet and bringing the blanket up over them.

—

When he woke, Giles was curled around Buffy's tiny frame with her head resting on his right bicep. He knew it was time for him to get ready to go and his heart hurt, knowing he was to leave her again. Placing an affectionate kiss on her head, he gently removed his arm and tried hard not to shift the bed too much as he climbed out of it.

Before taking a quick shower, he inspected himself in the mirror. She had left a few marks in her zeal during their first session and the scratches on his shoulders stung a little beneath the soap and hot water. It could have been worse, he could still be suffering from the slice near his navel, but there wasn't even a scar. He felt that there should have been a scar. It somehow didn't feel quite right coming through an apocalypse without at least one. Fully dressed, he stood in the doorway and watched his Slayer lying in the bed. She was awake, though she was pretending not to be. He supposed it was easier this way. They never really knew how to say goodbye properly.

After gathering his things and shoving them in his rucksack, he crossed over to the desk and removed the complimentary stationary and pen from the drawer and began to jot down his contact information along with a little note. When he'd finished, he folded the paper before reaching back into in his ruck, pulling out a small token, and placing it into the small pocket he'd created with the stationary. He folded the paper again in such a way as to keep the little gift from falling out and walked over to her side of the bed. Her face wasn't relaxed, but it was clear that she wasn't going to engage him in conversation and he ran his index and middle fingers gently along her cheek, playing along with her charade.

"Goodbye, Buffy," Giles whispered before placing the note on the side table next to her. Receiving no response, he moved to the door and took his jacket off the hook before opening it.

"Goodbye, Giles." He barely heard her whisper just as he closed the door behind him.

The desert sun nearly blinded him and Giles stepped into the shade for a minute to acclimate his eyes to the brightness of the day. He wasn't quite sure if the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes were from the intensity of the sun or from leaving his Slayer and their friends behind again. Probably more from the latter, if he had to analyze his feelings. He hoped it was still too early to run into the others. He didn't fancy having to explain his reasons for leaving them again. Perhaps he was being a coward, but a part of him knew Buffy would defend his actions to their friends and, once they had learned why, they would understand and forgive him, much as she'd done.

Across the road from motel stood a rental car company. The town had been abandoned amidst the wake of the Sunnydale implosion and it was just a matter of choosing a car, jimmying the lock, and hot wiring the engine - easy enough for man with his colorful past - and, taking a steadying breath, he put one foot forward and left for a third time.

~Fin


End file.
